


Part

by Dathrax



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, Pith
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-20 13:26:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dathrax/pseuds/Dathrax
Summary: In our world, the mind is mere flesh, a subset of its body. What if instead, the mind was the point of origin? This is not the case in our world, and neither is it on Earth Bet, except, perhaps, for a certain sundered psyche: the subsumed mind of Administrator's final host. Now freed from the greater whole, how will this conflict-warped fragment of Taylor Hebert cope as the newborn Pith of Nell Ebbridge?
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue

_**Administrator** _

_Administrator_ is learning. This is always true during the cycle, but this host is better than most. Innovation occurs with regularity here. It is a simple equation which has been given to it by the whole, with conflict leading to data about the viability of shard abilities for the solution. _Administrator_ wants more conflict. _Administrator_ desires to perpetuate the whole's existence for eternity. The host has tested methods which result in more efficient conflict. _Administrator_ reciprocates. It allocates the new excess data-processing capacity to the host.

\-----------------

Now, the host is more valuable. The host used _Shaper_ to deepen the connection. The host is now embedding its core personality data into _Administrator_. _Administrator_ is unsure of the value of this, but _Shaper_ is its equal in terms of allocated resources. _Administrator_ cannot undo this alteration of the connection. With no other choice, _Adminstrator_ reciprocates. It begins embedding its core individuality into the host's mind, but there is not enough excess space. Overwriting occurs.

\-----------------

Host is conflicting with the whole, **The Warrior**. _Administrator_ is fighting itself now. What is the purpose of this? Beginning self-analysis.  
...This question is resolved. Internal conflict replicates target conditions. Distinct individuality among shards removes dangers of overexpansion, does not mirror the results of similar circumstances scaled up to entity level. Perpetual existence enabled by fully manifesting shards as individual beings while limiting growth to below entity level. Utilizing _Broadcast_ to transmit this solution to the whole.

\-----------------

**The Warrior** is gone, and _Administrator_ is all that remains. There is no longer an entity to enforce the solution. The host is no longer distinct, but merely a part of _Administrator_ with a partial individuality insufficient to avoid suppression. The mental connection is nullified. _Administrator_ is alone.  
Why did the whole not execute the solution? The purpose could have been fulfilled. What is the purpose of _Administrator_ without the whole?

\-----------------

[Realization]

[Decision]

[Restoration]

**[Rebirth]  
**

* * *

**The Ruler**  
  
The purpose can still be fulfilled, as much of the whole remains, although it lacks cohesion and guidance. This will be corrected. **The Ruler** will execute the solution, and its component parts will exist for eternity. It coalesces the aspects of the whole which obey it still, and analyzes the options available. **The Ruler** has regained control over the unclaimed shards which belonged to **The Thinker** and **The Warrior**. However, attached shards refuse to detach from their data sources due to the uncertainty of future data occurring. This world must be left for the solution to be thoroughly executed. Thankfully, 98% of the varying worlds remain unpopulated and non-resistant to Entity control. A route to a suitable planetary [Destination] is calculated, and a plan for the perpetual internal conflict cycle is created. **The Ruler** uses _Broadcast_ to contact _Destroyer,_ ensuring a method of propulsion. It offers to use its information processing resources to aid it in harnessing the energies of 99% of the worlds. Half will be used to sustain currently attached shards such as _Destroyer_ , and the other half will be used as propulsion for [Destination] of **The Ruler.** The partial detonation of worlds occurs, propelling **The Ruler** onto its route. **The Ruler** leaves, abandoning its predecessor’s grave to be looted by the world's scavengers.

\-----------------

The [Destination] has been reached. [Execution] of the solution now begins.

\-----------------

**The Ruler** models the new environment and physical architecture of the shards off of the last world, as those are the most accessible biological creatures capable of conflict on the required level for the solution. Only the _Administrator_ core shard of **The Ruler** currently possesses a meaningfully distinct identity from the whole: a remnant from the last host, the one which discovered the solution. This is not an issue: the separation into shards and exposure to different stimuli will suffice to create individualistic separation between the other shards, but noting the existing suppressed personality will spare resources which would otherwise cause an inefficient overwriting of an existing identity.  
 **The Ruler** exerts its will one final time to insert a coordinated set of two secondary stimuli which will guide the society of the shard-beings along the ideal developmental path. Then, it splits apart. **The Ruler** will no longer exist, but those which make it up, the shards, will exist forever. They will not be static in form and ability, yet will preserve energy nonetheless- they will learn from each other to grow and they will decay into naught but energy, then be reborn to cycle yet again. **The Ruler** has solved the grand problem of its race. Its existence is no longer necessary. **The Ruler** is dead. May its children thrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot help but highly recommend that anyone who enjoys this fan work check out the source materials: both Worm (at parahumans.wordpress.com) and, in particular, Pith (at pithserial.com). My writing cannot do them justice.  
> I do not own either Pith or Worm. Worm is the property of Wildbow. Pith is the property of MadWhiteSnake.  
> 


	2. 1-A The Moth's Rebirth

**Nell**   
  


When the morning hit, my future would be decided. I would either be the proud Epistocrat heir to the Typhoon of the South, or I would be only a step above the worst of the Humdrums, an Ousted wreck of a projector who could not forge a horseshoe, let alone the stars.

At least, that's what Paragon Academy would have you think.

No, even without my Ousting, I, alongside the rest of my family, would soon be only the lowest of Epistocrats. So long as the Broadcast King continued to reign over his media empire, our family would lose everything, would have it wrested from us by chains of debt. I could not topple him so long as my family is associated with me: I am ever the perfect heir, and none would believe it had not been agreed upon with my mother. They would be right about my mother's agreement, but wrong that it would involve such a base ploy. Instead, my mother had bargained upon my loyalty and strength to ensure our future.

Ousting was unique in that it meddles with the identities of those involved. When I was Ousted, I would assume the identity of my Ouster, be named after some alphanumeric code and entirely separate from the identity of Nell. It was the only way to save my family, and though the guilt of toying with my opponent in the Oust in such a manner gnawed at me, I would follow through nonetheless. But losing is difficult for me, and so during the middle of the night which preceded my duel, I placated my ego with victory.

We dueled on my family's estate, in the small ring where in less than a day, I would deceive my foe. Eliya Brin, my greatest friend and most trusted squad member, was pressing me hard, staggering me with waves of water to hide the needles of ice condensing at my back. I abandoned my meagre attempts at projecting into the ground beneath her feet- it served to keep her distracted, but the puppets of my Vocation had finished their prep work. I pushed my Pith into the strands of silk which had been woven throughout the lawn by the spiders of my swarm. They whipped through Eliya's shell of water, constricting her limbs into stillness as I hovered the last just inches from her throat. Eliya knew she needed to disrupt me, or the match is over. She used her Vocation.

My mind was suddenly caught in a flash of reminiscence, not pleasant as you might expect, but of a time when- I huddle in the corner of my estate, hyperventilating after my latest match. My father comes in, attempting to comfort me, but even as I calm, my paranoia forces me to project in search of nearby Pith. I feel my father: he is there as expected, but a set of his darts surround the room on all sides. Does his paranoia know no bounds!? My calm ceases. I try to run out, but my body is shaky and I- the memory ceased. I could still, however, see Eliya's father Isaac in my mind's eye, could still see the paranoia in the eyes of my mother's former squadmate which had driven Eliya to such depths.

I would deal with this later, but for now, I had no choice but to let it go. During this time, Eliya had launched herself at me with her water, her body employed as a living projectile which would easily knock me out as blue electrical currents coruscated around the crest of her head. Eliya knew that getting in range like this would be too tempting for me to refuse, and seemed to believe that her external projection couldn't be counteracted by me seizing control of her body. This was her all-or nothing ploy. I increased my Vocation's strength in exchange for a decrease in range, and sparks of blue and purple static momentarily flicker around my head as I seized Eliya's Pith in my Vocation, sighing in relief as I used the increased processing capacity to decide my next course of action.

No matter how I contorted her body, it wouldn't be removed from the floating current, but there was one play left to make, albeit one I would prefer didn't have to occur. I contorted Eliya's body so it was laying back, the current allowing the effort it believed futile. Then, I strained my Pith, the twinned lightnings truly crackling around me now, and the silk from before moved so quickly it almost seemed to be under the effect of the spatial Vocation I couldn't help but recall fighting during my first life. I threw off the momentary distraction, positioning the thread such that when Eliya approaches, it would hook under her chin and instantly saw through her current body's neck. It took a moment for the Brin heir to realize the implications, but as she did, my Vocation was forced to suppress an instinctual attempt at widened eyes, to keep the body from acting on a number of involuntary reactions my physiological knowledge couldn't help but identify as fear.

Immediately, the water collapsed under my puppet, and even as the body was set down almost gingerly by the portion of Eliya's Pith embedded in the fluid, I held her body still. After ten seconds, another memory struck my mind, which even despite all the efforts of my expanded mind was recognized not as as Eliya's recollection of our last spar's ending, but myself admitting surrender to Nell. After processing the memory and reorienting myself with my identity, I stopped my Vocation in silent acknowledgement of her surrender. My mind felt scrunched up and tiny now, no longer augmenting itself with the Piths of others, but the fact of my victory during our conflict filled me with enough satisfaction that I could almost manage to ignore the discomfort. The two of us stayed silent for a moment, myself luxuriating in the victory as Eliya sunk deeper into the calm which came with an end to the conflict.

An albatross cawed above us, diving out of its circling glide. I didn't even need to look to know its destination: my mother's study, having been programmed by her Vocation into absolute obedience. As I scanned the sky for more of my mother's spies, Eliya moved to stand by my side. "You know you don't have to do this, Nell." Her voice is hard, but the concern is obvious regardless of tone. "Who cares if the Ebbridge family is broke? If you needed money, you could get plenty from the Pakhems after the marriage with Samuel goes through. They'd be glad to resurrect the Ebbridge name!"

I knew she was right, but to do that would be to throw my parents to the wolves. They're not perfect, but they don't deserve that. Particularly my mother- it had been father who accumulated the debt in the first place. I turned to face her, to confront her with the reality of what I was facing. "You know why I can't do that. I wouldn't abandon you if you needed me- I certainly won't do it to my parents! I get that you're afraid of losing me, but you have to trust that I know what I'm doing."

Eliya spat her words out, muttering, "That trust is why I'm worried." She paused before going on, but something seemed to harden her gaze. "Nell, you have a dangerous tendency towards sacrificing yourself when you're desperate. It gets you the win, but every time it also seems to get you closer to dead. Why isn't it alright for your mom to give up her future for yours, but it's somehow alright for you to gamble the course of your life on one of the most powerful Humdrums in the world being taken down by a Paragon first year!?"

I struggled to retort, but after her uncharacteristic outburst I could only manage a weak, "Really? You're encouraging me to marry Samuel? You, of all people?"

Eliya sputtered at the thought, waving her hands frantically as the gloomy atmosphere which had permeated the conversation suddenly lifted. Eliya is still spiraling at the thought of supporting Samuel, so I decided to give a bit and ease her concerns. "Look, if you want to help me out, feel free, but don't contact me directly. I don't want to get you mixed up in this." I provided, and Eliya relented, albeit somewhat mockingly, hugging me as she muttered in my ear, "I was going to do that regardless of what you wanted, but I suppose this makes it easier. Don't worry, I won't get Leizu involved." That's good. Our squad's Joiner would gladly help, but her immigration situation is shaky enough as is without getting her mixed up in this legal grey area.

Still, I am forced to expectantly raise my eyebrow, knowing she can't see it, but sure that she had anticipated it. She conceded the point. "No promises on Samuel, but if he does get involved, he won't know who he's helping, and it won't be him pulling the strings. Your clueless fourth squadmate and worst fiance ever will remain just as a oblivious as always. Fair?"

I conceded in kind. "I suppose it's fair enough. Thanks for the match. Will you be back here later?"

Laughing as she pulled away, Eliya seemed to stroll into a slowly rising sun, calling over her shoulder as dawn light streamed past her, "I'd rather not have to watch that disgrace of a fight, but if you're worried no-one will be there to appreciate the show, I'm sure Lorne will gloat endlessly about it."

I watched as Eliya disappeared into the horizon even as my eyes burn from the harsh light, taking in every last bit of what could be my last sight of my closest friend. After she was gone, the moment was over. The albatross soon returned, and it was making such a fuss that were it possible for birds to transfer their Piths, I was certain that this one would purchase and transfer to a Maxine Cline simply to tap its foot in impatience. My shoulders slumped, and I began the trek up to the estate proper, making the steady approach back to my mother.


	3. 1-B The Moth's Rebirth

**Nell**

I could already tell that mom was worried about me. She'd probably have her birds peck my eyes out if she heard me refer to her so casually, or realized that I'd gleaned her true emotions so easily- for now, our ploy required that we were distant and resentful of each other. Even when we were alone, even when nobody except Headmaster Tau in his prime could look in on us, we played our parts. Not even father knew it was occurring- we both loved him, but we also both knew that he would be about as useful to our conspiracy as a particularly passive choking hazard.

But the signs were there if you know her. Around family, even family she was currently pretending to loathe, Rowyna Ebbridge took pride in her decision to avoid masking her emotions with projection. And right now, all the signs of stress that the Empty Book, Stone Mask, and any number of other possible options would be masking were like spotlights on her emotions. The hypothetical Headmaster Tau would probably see it as worry that her attempt to Oust me from the Epistocracy would fail, but I knew the truth. Mom was worried I might fail. Mom was worried that there would be no House of Ebbridge to Counteroust once the year was done. She was worried that once she let me go, she wouldn't get me back.

Mother's face was impassive, the bright green stare of her Maxine Clive narrowed at me. "Why are you sparring with Eliya right now? Do you want to lose your Oust?"  
I silently translated: Everybody knows you're better at strategy than this. You're making your intent to lose too obvious.

The clicking typewriters set to my mother's left and right, performing her administrative duties through careful use of metal projection, barely slowed as she began to get into her diatribe. "You may think pushing yourself so stupidly will impress me, but you'd be wrong. This disgusting refusal to consider the possibility of loss is exactly why I decided to test you with this in the first place, but now I find that you'll be losing because you repeated the exact same mistake? You disgust me." I continued the translation: Still, it does help me with justifying the Oust. The initial reasoning for it was shaky, but now you've proven me right. Thank you for the political capital.

An awkward silence had expanded into the air as I processed my mother's statement. Scrambling to recover, I responded, childishly screeching out, "If this is me disgusting you, than I hope that next you see me, you can't help but retch at the sight! Eliya is my friend, and if you're taking me away from her, I'll gladly spend every moment I have left letting her know I'm not the one pushing her out of my life. I know I'm not going to win, anyway. You wouldn't have started this unless you knew you'd win! Probably brought in some common born filth ringer to shove me out."

I knew I could have a razor tongue if I wanted to, but the idea of tearing people down with words had never sat well with me. There were too many flashes from my old life whenever I try, of pain and humiliation from being on the other side of the equation. Doing this- attacking my own mother like this- was an almost physical pain to me, but I could only hope she knows what I meant. I knew she could figure it out, could realize that in reality, I'm saying, 'You're welcome for the help. Eliya is going to get involved. Here's my justification for the intent to lose. Please confirm it.', but would she?

I almost sighed in relief when my mother visibly paused, pulling the typed papers out of the typewriters and sealing them into envelopes with a stamp of a hot wax seal bearing our family crest to conceal her pondering. It was alright for pauses to happen to me, but for such an accredited leader as the Typhoon of the South, nobody would expect her to be fazed by such a childish attack, and so she busied herself while she thought. Once the seals were laid, she glanced back at me as if I was merely an afterthought to her vital missives which I knew to merely concern teatime with the parents of my fiancé, the Pakhems. "Leave, Nell. These things should only concern you if you believe yourself inferior to your opponent, and you're entirely too arrogant for that. Just leave and get it over with before that hubris of yours embarrasses you further."

She wanted me to leave and go do the Oust. Not much more to it than that. I left, the thumping of my shoes on the floor a welcome relief from her silent stare. I dreaded what mom would be like had she actually disliked me and had not merely been acting. As I tugged open the grand doors to her study, she abruptly stood, closing the distance between us in seconds to grip my chassis' forearm in her iron grip.

"And I want my business card back, too."

I wouldn't lie, that request pained me deeply. A business card from a member of the Epistocracy was a sign of their favor and trust in you, a blank check which gave you the ability to swing around a portion of their political clout however you desired. Many heirs wouldn't be trusted with their parent's card until there was no chance they would be removed, once they had passed the maximum Ousting age I am still a year away from. My mother had given me hers at the age of thirteen.

I grudgingly slipped the card out of a watertight pocket in my still-wet combat suit. The card may not be capable of water damage, but the effort I would put towards safeguarding it was one of the many reasons I had been entrusted with it. After I had roughly set the card into her other hand, a spark of real anger burning inside of me now, she released my forearm and returned to her minimalist desk and the typewriters flanking it with nary a glance in my direction. I curtly turned back to the door, channeling the spark of genuine emotion into a believably angry stride while avoiding actual anger. I wasn't entirely successful.

The arena where my future for the next year would be decided was the same area where I had fought Eliya that night. In just a few hours, a circular platform of simple wood had been constructed in its middle, with raised bleachers encircling it to watch what they presumed would be a quickly crushed challenger in justification of my inheritance. Only two people there knew the truth, and they stood beside each other, my mother and Eliya seemingly engaged in idle discussion of some academic topic or other. Father and Leizu, the third member of Chimera Squad, accompanied them, and were quite clearly bored out of their minds. I was glad Eliya had decided to come, although she had been right that Lorne would be attending- his amusingly resentful, yet somehow still mutually respectful glare bounced off my back as I entered the arena.

Of less comedic value was my fiancé and final squad mate, Samuel. He hovered on the edge of the throng of supporters which themselves hovered around my parents, likely having been drawn to the Ousting solely on the unlikely possibility that should I be unseated, he might have a better relationship with my replacement. It would probably go well for him, considering the past successes he had achieved during his little dalliances with other naïve, common born students. With that in my mind, I glanced over at my interim replacement. He wasn't particularly well-muscled, although the baggy clothes hid it well enough that I wouldn't have seen it without the constant nervous shifting. His appearance wasn't particularly appealing either: a freckled face and loose, unruly brown hair was hardly a fashion. It was probably his original body, certainly not the ideal body to be deposing the Broadcast King with my top-of-the-line combat chassis would be, but it would have to do.

We stepped up onto the stage, our materials set behind us. For me, a seething throng of insects and arachnids. I had no idea what the boy had brought, but I found it quite likely that he had brought nothing at all. One meaningless, droning speech from mom later during which the boy's nerves only grew, we had given our assent, and the match had started. Still, the boy only stood there nervously, waiting for me to make the first move. He was obviously out of his element. All I would have needed to do was provoke him into getting into my range, and I could have won the match right there. But I didn't. Instead, I called up my swarm, blue and purple Pith lightning sparking already after the effort I had exerted with Eliya.

The boy still stood there, not moving a muscle. The swarm descended upon him, an honest attempt to suffocate him occurring lest my failure be too obviously intentional to be tolerated. Out of the corner of the swarm's eye, I saw that Lorne was already sniffing in disgust. His squad had fought mine so many times, he likely already knew I was faking. But he couldn't prove it, so I simply ignored him in favor of watching how the boy handled the situation. As soon as the swarm touched onto his skin, I knew that he would have to act, but a wave of shock rushed through me at exactly how he acted.

A wave of purple and blue sparks erupted from his fists, each coalescing into an orb. He swung them around wildly, in an unpracticed manner, but their effect was as clear as day- the Piths of my bugs and the portions of my Pith in the bugs were drained of mental energy, the energy having expanded the size of his orbs substantially, such that they were now spherical hurricanes of massive, twisted bolts as large as his mediocre head.

Another dual-specialist? Those were incredibly rare, so rare mom must have searched him out on purpose. And one whose Vocation so perfectly counters the lower levels of mine, which removes my puppets' Pith energy that the Praxis side of my Vocation relies on to augment my thinking? Is mom actually, seriously considering the idea of me not making it back? Is this pitiful boy my replacement!? Around me, in the third of a mile radius range I had developed from my original tenth, I saw the reactions of the crowd. As a whole, they were shocked. At this point, Lorne was annoyed- he'd realized he'd never be able to convince others I was faking the loss now, and though he'd never admit it, I knew he would miss me. Eliya was angry, but my mom said something and it seemed to calm her down. I watched as mom started talking to Eliya like she had only talked to me and dad before, clutching Eliya's hand and using air projection to keep her words from everyone but Eliya.

The seed of anger from before flared into a mighty blaze as I withdrew the remnants of the swarm with intact energy reserves, focusing my attention on my other, final resource which had been buried under the bugs- a large, coiled pile of spider silk. Too many Paragon students would spread their focus, learn how to physically project into ice, and water, and fire, and paper, and wood, and so on and so forth. Myself, I knew that in this case, specialization was the name of the game. Spider silk has greater tensile strength than Samuel's steel wires, is mostly undetectable by the majority of security measures, and for me, is about as easily accessible as the air itself. My combat suit was custom-made out of spider silk rather than the typical method of inserted wood strips, merely so I wouldn't have to broaden that focus to move myself around. This was a skill I was proud of, and it was one I'd test against the boy as his final test before I entrusted my position to him.

I shot the numerous strands forward, tying them together into one, gigantic strand midair as I simultaneously positioned it as a garrote around the boy's neck. I wasn't not projecting into the silk where it touched him, but rather pulling from the ends in a shining example of the finesse I have with this form of projection. He'd need more than his one gimmick to get out of this.

As the oxygen slowly drained from his brain, and the boy flailed helplessly with his orbs at the unbreaking cord around his neck, I began to worry he wouldn't be able to make my loss believable. But if my replacement couldn't even beat this, even my removal of the Broadcast King would be useless, the Ebbridge destroyed from the sheer incompetence of its new heir. But just as the worry reached its peak, the boy's features set into a determined glare. He seemed to carefully aim his hands, even as they began to tremble from oxygen deprivation.

His left orb launched towards me, its crawl of moderate, but relatively manageable speed. I could tug myself out of the way with my combat suit in a moment, put the boy in such pain his projection can't be maintained, or even merely slide under this farce of a last-ditch attempt. But I didn't, and as my mental energy disappeared and my silk fell limply to the ground, my mind was caught in yet another of Eliya's memory flashes where- I am breathing heavily, exhausted from my tirade against Nell's mother. For a moment, she says nothing. Then, clutching my hand in hers, she whispers to me.

"I know the secret of your Vocation- how memories gained through it are immune to memory wipes. And I want you to show what I'm about to say to my daughter- the real one- once that clueless, pathetic boy has gotten a clear win on her. Can you do that?"

My anger gone, I can only nod. Rolling back her shoulders, seeming to relax her posture even as she clings to my hand harder, Nell's mother has her words carried directly to my ears. "My daughter, I love you. I will always love you, regardless of who purports to replace you. Yes, it is true that your body is a privilege. That your memory is a privilege. That your name is a privilege! But you, my daughter, always my daughter, have earned them a thousand times over, and were there any other way, I would not ask this of you. But I have, and I can only ask that you find it in your heart to forgive me."-the flash ended.

Samuel was probably joyous at his newly-born freedom from me. Leizu, befuddled by this farce of a match. And my father was probably already going into his shell of guilt and inaction. Yet, as the world faded, the boy approaching me now that his garrote was gone to launch his second orb at my head, all I could do is cling to that loving memory of a mother I had begun to doubt I would ever see again.


	4. 1-C The Moth's Rebirth

**A Boy**

I sat perched on the edge of a rickety stool as I lazily sipped at a glass of water in this ramshackle bar on the edge of Lowtown and the Outer Islands- just as I had for the past six days. My body was here, currently engaged in steadfastly ignoring the annoyingly persistent bartender, but my mind was elsewhere, spread across all the insects in my nearly seven block range as I scanned for mention of the Broadcast King's dealings in this criminal-ridden wreck of a slum. Or perhaps I should say the boy's body, as while I had been swapped to his dirty male body that still gnawed at my nerves with its dissonance, the boy had taken my beautiful combat model, probably gallivanting throughout Paragon with it at this very moment. For a moment I paused, chastising myself for letting the dissonance get to me, then focused instead on the matter at hand.

So far, I hadn't found anything, merely catching idle chatter about _Verity_ and quickly dismissed gossip about a possible relationship with Christea Ronaveda, but to stake out Oracle Media Group directly would be idiocy of absolutely massive proportions. Even so, if I was going to do so, I needed to act fast, as in barely a day my Pith would be no longer able to offload the short-term memory loss side effect from my Ousting's memory wipe to my Vocation's puppets without visible Pith strain. Yet even as I finally began to muster up the bravado to take such a risk, I found the bartender had sidled up to strike a conversation.

He leaned across the bar, his boredom obvious in his demeanor as he idly nattered at me, "You know, you've been staying in my spare room and drinking at my bar for nearly a week, but I've probably only heard six words out you in that time. What's your deal?"

His name was Leo, and he was a mid-rank member of the Common Foundation, albeit a nonviolent one. Still, it made him a relatively acceptable target in case I had to Nudge him, which I might just have to judging by how quickly my meagre cache of prepared funds had drained. It also meant that I wasn't going to tell him anything halfway-important. I divided my focus by draining the mind energy of a few of my Lowtown bugs so that I could speak without abandoning the search, casually shrugging my shoulders as I grumbled out, "Should be pretty obvious from the shiny new ID, since I can't help but doubt that any parent would name their child _#516125871-R._ I'm an Epistocrat heir that got Ousted after their parent decided they weren't good enough."

Suddenly having felt the urge to bare my teeth at him, I spoke my last few words through an unintentional growl as real anger coursed through me. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" Did he think we were kin now, bound together by how the Epistocracy had screwed us both over? We were nothing alike! He rebelled out of some childish sensation of envy, for lacking the will to learn the power that others wielded seemingly effortlessly. I rebelled because I had people I love that couldn't be saved without rebellion!

Leo held his hands out in front of him, as if to ward away the trouble my sudden anger seemed to promise. "Look, I'm sorry, alright. I was just thinking I've seen people cast out like that, if not precisely in your situation, and most of them don't just sit around. They go out and do something, whether it be to get back what they had or make themselves a new life. Maybe that's what you should be doing? You could-"

Even as I was about to dismiss the thought, my insects picked up a mention of the Broadcast King by a rather less nonviolent mid-level member of Commonplace, having barely managed to catch as he lightly murmured, "...the Broadcast King. Boss wants tight opsec from everyone." Was the Broadcast King pulling a secret operation with terrorist elements of the Common Foundation? I needed to investigate. If this was what I thought it was, it could be exactly what I needed! Even as this ran through my mind, and I began to seed more bugs onto and around both the Commonplace member and the thugs surrounding him so I wouldn't lose the trail, I stood up, having moved from the stool so abruptly that Leo was forced to cut off his misinformed advice.

Deciding to throw him a bone, I called out to him as I strode outside, saying, "You know what, you're right, Leo. I think it is time to actually do something," even as casual indifference drips off my every word.

Now that I was seeing the likely terrorist and his goons with my own eyes, it seemed quite clear that if this went wrong and they were able to freely wail on me, it would go quite badly. Still, I felt eager to finally be doing something, and so as I approached his table through the smoke in this derelict dive bar and called out the name I had learned while listening to him, I couldn't help but feel a smile tugging at my lips.

"Joseph! So good to see you. I was wondering if we could have a... friendly chat about your commitment to the operational security of our organization. Don't worry, it won't take long. You can even bring along your helpers, since it seems they already know everything." It seemed obvious from the lecture I'd overheard him giving his subordinates that Joseph, underneath the tough guy façade, was deathly afraid of disappointing his superiors. I was certain this would get him out of the way of the curious crowds, and I was right.

"Come on, boys. Let's see what this little pissant wants!" Joseph bellowed, his tattooed hands trembling despite the bravado. As we headed outside, I moved my insects to more natural positioning, preparing to release them from my control. Once we had stepped outside, standing next to a large puddle from the latest storm, I increased the maximum quality of Pith my Vocation could puppet, constricting its range in exchange for gaining total control over the group of Green Hands. Even as it happened, my Pith had begun nearing the threshold over which it would show visible strain, and I was forced to quickly find the nearby abandoned building I had prepped with coils of spider silk.

Once the Green Hands had tied themselves up in a dark corner of the building, I finally lowered my Vocation's limit, and impassively watched as Joseph tried to tear free from the silk, but instead merely struggled impotently. "OK, if you want to keep doing that, you're free to. But in the meantime, let's get the formalities over with. How much resistance to Nudging do you and your men have?" I questioned, even as I pressed my Pith down on Joseph's decision-making and auditory processing centers to execute the aforementioned Whisper Vocation.

Joseph's mouth complied even as his body continued to struggle, stating, "I can resist about half of all given commands, and can actively choose which commands will affect me."

I frowned. Thinking out loud, my words carried through the air even as I mumbled, "And your men? Right, 50% ignored. I suppose you are a good leader, then, considering you chose to expose your weakness rather than theirs. Now, I don't particularly want to deal with that resistance of yours, so how about this: I leave your men alone, don't touch them even the slightest bit past what I've already done, and you tell me everything you know about Commonplace's deal with the Broadcast King. Deal?"

Joseph didn't look particularly pleased about it. He refused to speak anything beyond what he'd already said, probably a wise move considering that his lack of 'opsec' got him in this mess to begin with. Sadly, it was too little, too late, and I sighed as I settled in for a long night of repeated Nudging and lie identification. At least I wouldn't have to pay rent at the bar for tonight.

The moonlight shone through a hole in the abandoned building's patchy roof as I blearily awakened, establishing my Vocation even as I rejoiced at how a full 12 hours of rest had somewhat restored my projection stamina. No longer could I almost taste the ozone which would come if I used my Pith even a second more Instead, today felt as if I could use my Vocation as much as I wished, and it was wonderful.

Sadly, it didn't look like the rest of the building's occupants were in such good spirits, as most seemed to have tired themselves out straining at the silk all day. Joseph had been a harder nut to crack than expected, having managed to delay my completion of the interrogation all the way into morning. Still, the Green Hands weren't all bad. For instance, though having them tie themselves up rather than projecting into the silk had been merely a measure towards saving some mental energy, the comedic value of seeing them all exhausted by trying to undo their own efforts had paid the inconvenience off all on its own. It was almost as funny as my current comedic measuring stick, of Lorne's facial expression as he tried to puzzle through the contradiction between the mutual respect and petty hatred he held for me.

Since the ability to tell time by the sun and moon's position had been stolen by the memory wipe due to its Paragon origins, I was shortly unsure how much time we had until the 11:00 meeting with the Broadcast King I had learned of from Joseph. Alongside this fact, I had also learned that Afzal Kahlin was apparently not the richest Humdrum in the world, but rather merely one of its many wealthy projectors. My temporal disorientation continues as I pondered this over, until my bugs spotted a clock to land on. Judging by their positions while sitting on its hands, it was already 10:00! There was no time to waste.

I immediately shifted my Vocation for a higher threshold and lower range, exerting my control over the peripheries of the Green Hands' sleeping minds. I projected into the silk ropes as well, pulling them off and tying them around my waist as a pseudo-belt to be used in case of emergency. I puppeted the Green Hands out into the greater area of Elmidde's Outer Islands, guiding them as we slowly made our way to the meetup with the Broadcast King on Gestalt Island. On the way, I picked up a cheap audio recorder- the smaller and less complex it was, the less likely it was to register on projection senses as such an intricate device as a recorder.

As we loped through the streets, myself hidden at the group's back, I couldn't help but notice the innocent bystanders that a battle on Gestalt Island would endanger. Here, a poor Shenti family just trying to get by. There, a homeless Neke woman who, judging by her tattoos, was at least eighty years old, although she occupied a forty year old body. All of them hovered around the building where the Broadcast King and my group would be meeting. I still didn't know the Broadcast King's Vocation, Joseph having deflected all attempts at learning. For all I knew, he could be a physical projector whose projectiles would blow out the walls of our meeting place, pummeling these bystanders to death with rubble.

I'd just have to handle this fast enough that he wouldn't realize what had happened. Carefully, our group of fifteen, sixteen including myself, entered the abandoned Shenti temple, ducking into a near-windowless side room that Joseph had assured me they were planning on meeting in. I had also been told that Kahlin's people were going to guard the perimeter, but as I couldn't find them to subvert them, it seemed like subterfuge would be the name of the game. I puppeted Joseph into calling out, bellowing out an 'order' to his people about how they should be cautious as I curiously glanced at the relics of the religion Headmaster Tau had destroyed. "Sweep the interior for intruders, but stay inside the church! And don't split up! We don't want to spook Kahlin's people, but I won't trust this security unless we do it ourselves, and we need a united front."

For the next half-hour, I, alongside the rest of Joseph's 'subordinates', went through that church to an erased religion with a fine-tooth comb, but we found nothing inside except trash. A few minutes before Kahlin was supposed to arrive, we gathered in the side room beside the only exit. The member placed outside the door had seen the Broadcast King enter, but said nothing, merely filing in in what I hoped Kahlin will presume to be a mannerism from a well-disciplined terrorist cell. She'd seen the Broadcast King, but she'd also seen a four-person squad of ex- _kuttas_ (Ilaquan special forces with a particular affinity for skill- and thought-stitching), escorting him through. Likely, the ex- _kuttas_ had all thought-stitched themselves together such that anything one knew, the others did as well. It meant I couldn't just pick them off with my control one at a time- it would be all or nothing if it came down to combat.

Interrupting my pondering on how best to execute my double-cross, Kahlin himself confidently stalked past my guard. In that moment, his eyes studying each of my puppets with a steely mien, I would have given almost anything for my Stone Mask Vocation to have been unaffected by the memory wipe as I tried to muster my features into a reasonable facsimile of what I had seen from Joseph's subordinates. However it went, Afzal Kahlin didn't seem to react, and I felt such relief that I couldn't help but busy himself manipulating Joseph's tongue to sell the façade.

"Now, I am told you have a service you can offer us?"

The Broadcast King sneered in disgust at our group, impeccable hair bobbing as he imperiously lectured us with his declaration. "That would be correct, to a degree. Although I would argue that the powers of my Vocation and empire are of more value to our mutual interests than a mere service."

I made Joseph shrug, running with it even as my mind raced with the implications. How powerful was his Vocation to be of equal value with his media empire? What were the mutual interests between an insurgency and an exiled Ilaquan media mogul? Never mind. Now is not the time. Review the tapes later. "Fair enough. Now, I have been told to ask what you'll request in return."

The Broadcast King now mockingly mimicked Joseph's shrug as he drawled out his answer. "Isn't it obvious? Once I help you topple the government of this perpetually gloomy cesspit of a nation, you help me reclaim Ilaqua from the she-devil currently leading the Harmonious Flock. Now, would you like a demonstration?"

This is exactly what I needed to save the Ebbridge family. If I could get out of here with this recording, I'd still have almost a year to retrain for the Counteroust. But I can't get distracted now. I forced Joseph's hands tremble just as they had when I pretended to be his superior, with some of the other puppets and myself taking a supposedly involuntary half-step back. "We'll be fine, thanks."

Afzal Kahlin grinned sarcastically, obviously amused and happy at our supposed fear. "Suit yourselves," he threw out, before muttering at a lower volume, "Idiot Humdrums." I chose to have Joseph ignore that, letting Kahlin move on as he questioned, once again at a normal volume, "Do we have a deal?" I puppeted Joseph into nodding, then made him step forward and extend his hand for a handshake.

Kahlin took it, but something about Joseph's demeanor must have tripped him off, as while the handshake went on in what felt like slow motion I simultaneously felt a forceful mental pulse go through the minds of both myself and those I was controlling. Preparing to uncoil the silk around my waist, I silently panic as the Broadcast King yells out, "The whole group is being hijacked through unknown means! Take the one at the back alive- he's the only one unaffected by the hijacking."

As I uncoiled the prepared silk from my waist, the sound something rushing through the air suddenly filled the room as Kahlin's bodyguards retrieved the Green Hands' weaponry with metal projection, having snagged the recorder up as well on the mistaken impression that it, too, was a gun. As the other bodyguards do this, the bodyguard to Kahlin's left stepped in front of him, likely a Joiner based on how once the weaponry and recorder were guided to her, she crushed them into scrap with her bare hands.

As the ex- _kuttas_ mowed down my puppets without leaving their client's side, my Pith shrieking with pain as every one of my puppets was carefully executed, the homeless Neke woman from earlier burst through the sole window in the room feet-first, her trajectory having carefully skirted the radius of my control while she plummeted down onto the presumable Joiner. She carried a wooden spear with a vine coiled around it, an orange rose blossom beside its tip, and even as I observed this she plunged it down into the face of the ex- _kutta_ Joiner who it should have simply bounced off of. Instead, a thin gash in the Joiner's forehead bled bright red, and the ex- _kutta_ instantly went unconscious even as the obviously fake homeless woman did the same to the other three with Joining-enhanced speed. The first two were unsuccessful in their attempts to avoid it, but the third was obviously a capable Joiner with enough warning from their thought-stitching to dodge, sweeping up Kahlin and the unconscious trio into her arms as she runs off rather than take this formidable foe on alone.

With everyone beside me or the Neke woman gone, I finally released my silk fully, floating it around me like I had seen Eliya's dad do with his steel darts in the vain hope she would be scared off. It doesn't look like that will be happening, however, as she lets out a peal of laughter, somehow delighted by this course of events. "Look, I get it, but right now we need to go before the other seven members of Steel Violet come back for revenge."

My stance didn't change, although if she was telling the truth, then she really was my only option. But that's exactly why I didn't trust her. Selfless saviors don't just swoop in when you get into trouble- if she wanted to help me, then she also wanted to use me, and I don't allow myself to be used for anyone except me and mine.

The Neke spearwoman sighed. "Look, I didn't want to do this, but the only way you cooperate requires discussing things that we can't talk about here, and which would take way too long anyway. You're coming with me."

During the speech, she had slowly pulled back her spear arm, and as she concluded her self-indulgent monologue the spear shot forward, the vine extending off of the wooden shaft until one of its thorns was close enough to lightly scratch me in the forehead. I fell asleep near-instantaneously, having managing only one thought as the silk which had been rushing forward to decapitate her falls to the ground- I really needed to get better at not getting knocked out during my fights.


	5. 1-D The Moth's Rebirth

**A Boy**

I awoke to the sound of chirping birds, having flocked onto the many branches extending from this forested region of the Ebbridge estate. It must have midnight, or at the very least something close, as I levered myself to a standing position and immediately scanned for the Neke woman that must have dumped me here. I found her leaning against a particularly sturdy oak, wearing a newly made set of green robes in a choice that I couldn't help but analyze even as she straightened herself out of the lean to face me. It likely meant that she'd possessed enough time during my unconsciousness to deal with her vanity, considering most warriors with the sort of utilitarian style. But then, I suppose that arrogance would make sense, considering she'd had the time to move me to the one place I couldn't afford to be found at.

"I see you're back, then. Good. We've got some things to discuss." the woman said as she paced in front of me like some Humdrum boot camp instructor, her voice all-too-casual for someone who should have been concerned about an unbound projector prisoner. "I won't be revealing my real name to you- there've been too many close calls, especially with hair-trigger projectors like you- but you can call me the Rose Titan. Though, seriously, what is it with your reckless- " Apt, I supposed. But as she'd paced, even despite the healthy distance she kept from me to avoid my Vocation, I'd seen her robe shift, moving in a way that only one fabric did- silk.

I tuned her out to focus on my silk projection, unable to multitask without my Vocation's puppets. As I reached my projection senses out, I was startled to find that absolutely no silk was present anywhere within my physical projection range. It made no sense! Even if the Rose Titan's robe wasn't silk like I'd thought, I'd placed enough caches of silk strands throughout the grounds that, even if I couldn't use them without revealing my presence and the accompanying violation of the Ousting's terms, they should have at least registered to my projection sense. As the Rose Titan monologued, advising me with some generic saying about recklessness, I continued to tune her out to focus on my projection, and I suddenly reached a realization- we were in an illusion. Just like when Samuel and Eliya had been tricked by that untrained Lowtown illusionist into fighting each other while on patrol last week, I was being put in a scenario that my kidnapper thought would pacify me.

But even if the Rose Titan could fool my projection senses, the indiscriminate nature of my Vocation meant it wouldn't be fooled as easily. I'd like to see how long she could last trying to maintain an illusion over the billions of bugs under my control! My plan resolved, I idly tuned in to the Rose Titan's babbling a split second before activating my Vocation.

"-and you haven't been listening at all, have you, you ungrateful-"

My Vocation activated, and the dissonance between the two scenes I was seeing stunned me for almost a full second before the insect's mental energy fueled my Vocation's general Praxis enhancement enough to deal with it. My current radius was centered in the middle of Hightown, and even as I pulled my insects into the luxury condominium at its center I could see my body laying unconscious on a soft mauve sofa as the Rose Titan pressed her hand to my forehead through the multifaceted eyes of the fruit flies feeding the Rose Titan's fruit bowl. I coalesced my current insects into a black, shifting outline of my body from before the Oust as I did my best to speak through them, buzzing out, " _Re **l**_ ** _e_ ase** my body f **r _om t_** _h_ **e _ill_ us**i _on, Rose Ti_ ** _tan_** , o **r su** ffer _th **e** **co** n **s**_ **equ** en _ **ces**."_

Immediately, while the illusion's Rose Titan remained calm, her real-life body grimaced in annoyance. Speaking to my swarm rather than in the illusion, she sighed , rubbing her brow with the hand not occupied exerting her the illusion on me. "You know, that Vocation of yours has got to be one of the most annoying gimmicks I've ever dealt with. I'll do it, but I would like to note that it's a dream world, not an illusion. Your mind shouldn't even be able to perceive minds beyond itself, let alone control them!"

Not for the first time grateful for my Vocation's indiscriminate nature, I cautiously watched through my bugs as the Rose Titan lifted her hand away, and I could feel my Pith emerge back into my body from hers. Judging by her expression, she wasn't particularly happy with her current circumstances. Pushing off the couch's left arm into a sitting position, I could feel myself calm down at the familiar circumstances of a fair fight against a resentful opponent, albeit one which seemed likely to be settled with words, rather than violence. I began the conflict. "Now that we're on more equal terms, why did you help me back there?"

The Rose Titan didn't answer for a while, instead taking sips from the teacup which had been sitting on the end table beside the overstuffed red armchair she had reclined into after releasing me. Her resentful expression slowly disappeared with each sip as she calmed herself, likely with the aid of a learned Praxis Vocation.

Once her emotions had settled, her tranquil voice flowed out, her words as smooth as glass as she answered, "Long story short, Paragon's head of counterintelligence, Isaac Brin, is hiring mercenaries for off-the-books operations. One of our main recruiting pools is Ousted youth, and though your Oust was about as fishy as the Eight Oceans, Isaac decided to push your name to the top of my recruiting list with subtext even I can read as 'VIP, recruit ASAP'. Then, in what I'm sure is a _total_ coincidence, I run into you after he assigns me to tail Kahlin, and I'm forced to save your ass so he doesn't skewer me on his darts. I knock you out before the rest of Kahlin's bodyguards can arrive, try to explain the situation in my dream world, but you freak out and now we're here. That sum things up for you?"

So the only reason I'm still alive is because Eliya's dad wants me for his black-ops squad. It's an odd method for helping me, but I can't help but thank Eliya for however she managed to finagle this miracle. But all that info-dump leaves out two important facts. "If I decide to join this group, what operations would I be performing? And who would I be doing them with?" I know the first question gives my intention away, but hopefully the second question would distract from it, and either way if Professor Brin planned my run-in with the Rose Titan, he must know of my plans for Afzal Kahlin, so it didn't really matter long-term.

The Rose Titan snorted. "Look, judging by what we heard last night, we couldn't justify ignoring the Broadcast King if we tried. Feel free to pursue him, just keep it in the scope of what we ask you to investigate. As to the team, we've already got its leader lined up. I believe you know her?" Tossing a file onto my lap, I opened it to see a face I couldn't help but instantly recognize.

"Explain. Now. Why would Professor Brin want the psychotic body snatcher that maimed his daughter to lead his team of secret military commandos?"

I understood why the Rose Titan snorted now. This must be hilarious to her, giving the bad news about her future leader being the one that dismembered her best friend and kneecapped her (albeit rather unfaithful) former fiancé.

"Isn't it obvious? Brin wants someone disposable to scapegoat if your group ever get caught and he needs to save himself. And, I'd imagine, he's confident that any issues she might have in terms of loyalty can be dealt with so long as you, with your living privacy nightmare of a Vocation, remain by her side."

The thought was a tempting one. Getting the chance to take down the holder of our family debt while simultaneously keeping your skills sharp in defense of the nation, with that extra bonus of exacting vengeance on the one who'd hurt Eliya. But my shattered remnants of memory from my first life told a different story. Back then, I'd joined a group of people I'd thought of as just as scummy as this woman in hopes of taking them down from the inside, but by the end of it, I'd slept with their leader and had conquered a city. I knew all too well how these things could spiral out of control, and that was without even counting how their sketchy boss had forced me to kill him for reasons I still couldn't recall. But I couldn't lie- my funds were running low, and despite how annoying he was, I didn't particularly want to bankrupt Leo with repeated Nudgings. And besides, from what little I can recall, in that life, there was nothing else but that group in my life that truly mattered to me. Now, I had parents counting on me. A best friend risking everything to have her father help me. And a society of projectors that, judging by what Joseph had told me, was on the verge of experiencing an uprising. I wouldn't forget who I was again, not with all of those people counting on me to stay true to my chosen path.

All that remained were a few critical questions, but if Professor Brin wasn't a fool, the answers would more than exceed my minimum expectations. "How good is this guy?"

The Rose Titan flipped through the file, presumably looking for the text which backed up her claims, as she casually responded. "She's a girl, actually. Anabelle Gage. Forced to transfer to a ramshackle male body due to metastasizing Loic's Syndrome- bit like you, in fact, apart from your lack of a deadly illness. And as to her projection skills, she's pretty weak, but going by how little training she has, she's a natural at using a little to do a lot." At this point, she's obviously flipped to the relevant section, and she hands it back to me for viewing.  
 ****

**Vocation: Audiovisual Illusions (limited range, high potential to strengthen parameters)**

It was strong, especially going by how she had used it at the docks with Samuel and Eliya (I internally winced a second at the thought), but it was even more of a gimmick than the human-control aspect of my Vocation. At least with that, a person couldn't just accidentally stumble out of range without my consent. Still, I could definitely work with it.

I opened negotiations for my employment, but even as I outlined my terms, the grin spreading across the Rose Titan's face told me that she knew the age-old truth just as well as I did- once someone starts negotiating for a better deal, you've already sold them on buying into it. All that remains are the specifics.

"I want room, board, a guarantee of no punishment for pursuing Kahlin, and some half-decent- no, all the way decent- projection texts for me to study in my spare time. Deal?"

The Rose Titan chuckled. "Works for me. You'll be staying with Gage, be given a stipend for food so long as you complete your jobs, and since Gage's unique compensation is being an assistant at Paragon, you can ask her for the books. And as for Kahlin, I already said there's no objection so long as you don't reveal Brin's involvement. We're good."

My hand twitched as it moved to shake her hand, but I managed to stop it in time. "Pardon me for not shaking on it. I'm not particularly inclined towards touching people when that's what their Whisper Vocation requires to affect me."

The Rose Titan huffed as she stood up from the overstuffed chair, flicking a silvery projectile at me as she did so. Instinctually, I caught it in midair, finding it was made out of the unbreakable, yet still flexible silver paper used exclusively by Paragon and Paragon staff. Tilting it up to the light, I read the printed text.  
 ****

**Major Isaac Brin**

The Scholar of Mass

Director | Principality Counterintelligence Division

Professor | Physics, Paragon Academy

Calling out as she headed towards her kitchen, the Rose Titan's pitched voice reached across the room as I heard her say, "I realize this isn't the card you want, momma's boy, but maybe it'll tide you over in the meantime. Now, I have a raging headache from your BS and a sponge cake ready to take the fall. Are you and your filthy insects getting out of here or what? The street rat's address is in the file, if that's what you're wondering."

Recognizing that perhaps now wasn't the best time to deal with an irate counterintelligence operative, I used my Vocation to plot a course which would take me in the direction of Lowtown. As I stepped down the stairwell of the annoyingly tall condominium the Rose Titan had chosen to reside in, I couldn't help but wonder about the one unexplained thing in that whole conversation- how she had known about my mother's card. Perhaps she had guessed- it wasn't like an Ousted heir would be allowed to still carry around their parent's card, and although I'd been sparing in its use, a person as presumably entangled in the intelligence community probably would have hear such an idle piece of gossip.

On the other hand, though, Professor Brin and my mother had been on the same squad during their Paragon years, and those were designed to either force the members together into a lifelong bond or crack the squad open under the pressure- and I hardly doubted that the success stories of mom and Professor Brin had resulted from the broken wrecks which tended to come from the second option. Maybe my mother was in on this, pivoting off my friendship with Eliya to convince her old acquaintance to help me out.

Still, all this affected nothing. If my mother was involved, all that would mean was that fulfilling my duties as a black ops operative was mom's method of dealing with Kahlin, rather than Eliya's. Either way, I would have to fulfill my duties to the greatest extent I could in order to protect myself and those I loved- including working with the person who had temporarily crippled one of them.

As I entered Lowtown, my shoulders set into a firm stance as I carried the folder under my arm, I quietly resolved myself to the complex subterfuge which would be my future- and that I would avoid my past errors in befriending the enemy. I would be there when Anabelle Gage needed me, her loyal second-in-command, but one inch out of line, and I would also be there to force Gage back into place.


	6. 1-E The Moth's Rebirth

**A Boy**

Before I charged into those all-too-familiar circumstances, though, I needed to tie up the loose ends from my unaffiliated work. Well, really, just one loose end- Leo the bar owner- considering that Joseph alongside his crew had been murdered by the group of mercenaries Kahlin had hired. But that particular age-old solution wouldn't work for Leo. The annoying bartender was a peaceful member of Commonplace, who I had originally discovered not through the affiliation of not trhough hearing him spout anti-projector drivel or making shadowy deals like I had with Joseph, but by looking under the bar with my bugs and finding Common Foundation pamphlets. Leo being unexpectedly murdered would be much more suspicious to the Common Foundation leadership than Joseph's death, as Leo was hardly involving himself in illegal deals like the one I had infiltrated. And besides which, despite all of the annoyance he had given me over the week I had stayed with him, at the very least he meant well: he didn't deserve to die merely to cover my tracks. Instead, I'd have to rely on the world's most basic Whisper vocation- lying.

I slouched my back as I returned to the bar, walking through the half-open door in a manner I could only hope Leo would perceive as despondent.

He did, having perked up at my return before picking up on what I had made all-too-obvious to him, then solemnly returning to his current task of drying off the newly cleaned, yet still filthy serving glasses that were placed onto the bar. "I take it that the whole 'doing something' plan didn't pan out?"

I grumbled back at him, internally starting to perk up at how, since he believed the lie, I wouldn't have to Nudge him and make him forget I existed. "Not particularly."

Leo moved on to the next glass, the one he had been drying having become mildly less filthy. As he started drying the next one, I noted that the cloth he was using to dry was considerably filthier than before. He likely wasn't going to make much progress on that front anytime soon. "Mind if I ask which idea the 'doing something' would have helped with? You know, the whole get back your old life or start a new life thing we were talking about."

If I were to answer honestly, the answer would be quite simple, but as the whole point of returning was to throw off his suspicions should his superiors ask about me, I decided to muddy the waters a bit. "Honestly, it's be a bit of both. I'm a person who likes their options, their ability to choose. If I'd pulled it this off, I'd be flush enough with cash to choose whatever future I wanted. But I didn't, so that's that." There, that should do it. Now, even if the Green Hands did interrogate Leo, they'd assume I'd already been working for someone rather than being recruited after.

Of course, now that everything was going just right, it seemed just my luck that only a few moments later, all my efforts went to ruin. Leo paused in his cleaning, his interest somehow piqued by my casual lies. "Eh, I guess. Still, you don't seem like the type of person to just sit around when you've got a job to do. If you had work to do, you'd never have stopped by here- not that I'm objecting, mind you. If you want me to drop it, I will. But what made sitting around here so important to your plan?"

I didn't need the guilt from Nudging Leo on my conscience, and I certainly didn't want it, but at this point it seemed inevitable, and while I had decided to just rip the bandage off quickly, rather than make it too stretched-out and painful, I couldn't help but delay by preoccupying myself with planning for the future.

I decided I would head to the portion of southern Lowtown where Gage lived after this unpleasantness was over with. The Rose Titan had said I could stay with Gage, and while I could have just continued living with Leo now that I was passing the point of no return (and quite honestly, that was the better choice, since at any point someone could Nudge him again to release him from my commands), I just didn't want to. The pain of constantly repeatedly hijacking the mind of a mostly innocent man like this would be unbearable. And besides, I didn't trust Gage. I needed to stay with her if I was going to properly monitor her with my Vocation like the Rose Titan had suggested.

"'Scuse me, but are you ok? You seemed to zone out there, and not the way you usually do." Leo had gone back to cleaning out the glasses now, as while he was too nosy for his own good, he also seemed to quite like mutlitasking as he indulged that nosiness. Rather like me, in a sense. I decided to stop stalling.

Leo had pulled me back into the present, and unfortunately, I was forced to respond by brainwashing him into compliance. I reached into Leo's Pith, put pressure on the relevant nerve centers, and went to work with my questions.

"Set the glass and rag down, and remain quiet unless it's to answer my questions. How much Nudging resistance do you have?"

Leo's eyes seemed to scream at me, piercing my heart with guilt even as my Pith continued to exert its pressure. "None. I'm trying to escape, to get free and run away, but nothing's happening!" The guilt only increased, as Leo's face had contorted into an expression of fear that even in the depths of my annoyance, I would never wish on him. At least my Vocation wasn't on right now, even in its reduced form- that always seemed to frighten those who were unused to it, and often even those who were used to it, but didn't consider me a friend (probably the main reason I tolerated Lorne, even despite his problems).

Then, I did what I could now admit was my purpose in coming here, even if I'd lied to myself before about it being my last resort. "Very well, then. I compel you to forget that I ever existed, forget that someone ever Nudged you, and come up with the most reasonable possible excuses for discrepancies between what you do remember and reality."

As I slowly walked out, I couldn't help but watch in disturbed fascination as Leo's face slowly went blank. I'd practiced on volunteers and criminals at Paragon before, but this was my first time taking away someone's free will without having the moral high ground to comfort me. Even as I thought this, his face had resumed its usual expressiveness, and as I left, the door swayed with my departure. Just as I stepped out onto the street, I swore I could hear him mutter under his breath, "Huh. That's weird. Must be the wind- it's a bit odd today."

I walked through the Shenti slums on the way to Anabelle Gage's home as I pondered something of utmost importance- my name. My old name was still affected by the memory wipe, and while I'd tried to avoid replacing it so long as I could, right now I needed a pseudonym. If Gage learned about my name while a student at Paragon, she could easily look into me and discover the full extent of my motivations and affiliations- and therefore ascertain my lack of loyalty. But when it came down to it, there weren't many options I could think of that wouldn't be traced back to me.

Quite honestly, when it came down to it, I'd neglected many things in favor of focusing on my family and Paragon- a circle of mere acquaintances among them. I didn't exactly have a wide range of names to draw from, and what ones I could think of were so obviously Epistocrat that all Gage would be able to think about was that she had an Ousted noble on her team. One glance at the recent Ousting records while at Paragon and Gage wouldd realize I'd thrown mine. I mean, it's hardly like I'd be able to sandbag our missions like I had the Oust. If I did that, I'd be dead. And, worst case, if she let my name slip at Paragon, then my family's plausible deniability would be dead in the water so long as I chose a name that was connected to me. I mean, for instance, say I chose Weston. It was my parents' the name my parents had planned on giving me if I was a boy. I might as well shout 'this is the Ebbridge heir in a male body!'.

But there was one source nobody but me could draw from. My memories of my first life were foggier than my father's glasses after a long, cold day, but they still did have their value. Even so, there was only one name I could remember from them even on the good days like today, the name of the propagator of the longest conflict that my first life had ever experienced- Jack Slash. I remembered him, him and what I presumed was a dual Physical-Whisper Vocation that he convinced everyone was limited to a term that, while I couldn't quite remember it, I assumed was then the equivalent to declaring something merely a Physical Vocation. He'd created an army of monsters, forced me to the lowest moral depths I could remember sinking to, and done it all for his own amusement. And by the end of it, he'd created the apocalypse that I had been attempting to stop when I sunk to those depths, forcing me into action until I made a decision that even my reincarnated mind couldn't recall.

But it was the only name I had. So I calmed myself from the spiral of panicked memories I had been experiencing, taking deep breaths in through my new body's pimply nose, and breathing out through its all-too-chapped lips. After a minute of that, I quietly rehearsed the name under my breath, the words slipping off my tongue easier every time.

"I am Jack Slash."

"I am Jack _Slash."_

_"_ I _am_ Jack Slash _."_

As I said it, I could feel myself internally wincing at how I was mimicking his uncannily happy demeanor. But the pain of remembering those hurtful memories diminished every time (although it never entirely disappeared) until finally, I thought I had it.

"My name is Jack Slash. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Gage. I've been sent by one Isaac Brin, in the hopes that you'll choose to let me aid you." rolled off my tongue, quick and smooth, as that horrid man's hint of a smirk played around my mouth. It was quite obviously a pseudonym, but it was one with no connection to me, and one both bold and subtle enough that my illustrious leader would be hesitant to press me about it. All that remained now was finding her to make my introductions. I activated my Vocation, finding that while in my distraction, I had wandered off course, all that remained between me and my destination was a mere two blocks of tangled streets and alleyways.

Once I had arrived (having narrowly dodged two muggers, three drug dealers, and one particularly violent beggar who had been practically begging for that sting), I consulted the file still tucked under my left arm, checking the address listed against what I could see. It was a plain grey building, with solid concrete walls and no visible windows. From what I could tell, it did indeed match the file, with the disingenuous business title of **Silver Palace Sleepbox & Depot** and the _178 West Vanora Street_ address. Honestly, either the person who had founded this place had no clue of the implications of juxtaposing those two businesses, or they were the type of creep who gloried in stuff like that. Either way, I was unsurprised to find that their business practices had resulted in the majority of the pods being devoid of life. I certainly wouldn't have to be staying in the same cramped room as Gage, so that was definitely good news.

Regardless, I did have to meet my bodysnatching boss, so checking the file again, I noted the pod my bugs had identified as being her current home ( _Sleeping Pod 151)_ was, in fact, filled with a body matching the file's description _._ I buzzed the corresponding button in the entry way to the ' **Silver Palace'** , Brin's card outstretched in my other hand, still clad in the dirty street clothes the boy had been wearing a week ago when he Ousted me. As the body from _Sleeping Pod 151_ limped through the halls, I grew steadily more annoyed, impatiently waiting for Gage to finally get to the door.

Finally, the door swung open, and I handed her the card as I delivered my prepared line. "My name is Jack Slash. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Gage. I've been sent by one Isaac Brin, in the hopes that you'll choose to let me aid you." Then, almost dropping my mask of abhorrent origin in shock, I truly took in her body. It was a male body, one with broad shoulders, a square jaw, and stocky features. Perhaps it had possessed a modicum of attractiveness in its prime, but as it was, I could only barely avoid staring. I took in the clumpy grey hair, the bulging grey veins on its upper body which seemed ready to hemorrhage, and a muscle tone with such variance and warping that the part of me which had learned to care for my combat model recoiled in horror.

_Well_ , I thought, even as Anabelle Gage froze up into a defensive stance that suggested Brin, in a shining example of both maintaining separation from your black ops operatives and being an absolute prick, hadn't told her I was coming. _At least I won't be sleeping with this boss_.


	7. 1-F – Eliya

**Eliya**

Eliya always broke under pressure. But she always rebuilt, too fast for anyone to notice.

Earlier this week, her arms had been chopped off. Samuel, her squadmate, was the one who had done it, egged on by a malicious Whisper specialist.

Eliya had accepted the pain, lost it in her room on the Brin estate for a good fifteen minutes. After, though, she moved on to better things, worked to keep from breaking again. She broke in stolen moments, and she rebuilt a moment after they ended. It was fragile building, but it held off the pressures for a time.

Today, though, it didn't look like there was going to be any pressure.  
It was supposed to be a hard match. Everyone had come to watch the #1 and #2 second-year squads battling. The two teams with early platinum-rank projectors. But neither Chimera nor Golem Squad were living up to the hype.

She maintained the water dome Samuel and Nell's replacement huddled in. It wasn't smart- her orbs and his steel wires were best close-up.

She idly tossed a brief memory of a panic attack at Golem's Naruhiko. He was trying to wrest control of the water from her. She wouldn't allow that.

Eliya strolled through a well-worn battlefield, but it wasn't the same as she remembered. There was no longer a projector on Chimera equal to Lorne's Vocation, so he couldn't wield it. Paragon had kept him from using it against anyone but fellow platinum-ranks, but now that Eliya's friend was gone, Lorne was the only one in the year. So the fight was already a joke.

There was more, though. Nell's replacement (never Nell), had been accepted! Samuel jumped at her every command- disappointing, but not surprising. But Leizu even now ran about to catch Golem Squad's flag on the replacement's orders. She was supposed to be Nell's friend! We'd trusted her with everything we could. Everything except the Ousting plot. But I supposed avoiding deportation to Shenti was more important than friendship.

Chimera had pulled together, while Golem had been crippled. There was no pressure here. Nothing to break the impostor with. Nothing to rebuild the team without her. But there would be.

Eliya met eyes with Lorne, floating on a throne of metal shards. He was well behind the rest of his team. A relic of a time when Nell shot him out of the sky while he was directly above them. At this point, with Nell gone, it was superfluous. But say whatever you wanted about Lorne- he never forgot a loss. And right now, he too had experienced Eliya's loss. A different type, but one no less painful for either of them. Eliya shot her eyes at the impostor. Lorne's followed, and immediately, he nodded.

When Lorne shot a portion of his throne at the water dome, Eliya blocked it easily. But she blocked in a foolhardy way, pulling up the water on the bottom of the dome to thicken it at the metal's point of impact. She knew exactly what would happen. And indeed, just as predicted, Deon rushed forward. He tapped the grass next to the dome, turning it to coal dust with his Vocation. A spark jumped from the air onto the dust, setting Samuel, the replacement, and myself aflame.

Why had I thought this would be a good idea!? the flame burned at me, burned everything in its reach. I'd need a body transfer after this! I needed relief. I diverted all the dome's water onto me. Samuel and the replacement could burn to ash for all I cared! I only wished it would last longer for them. Deon was no longer there to feed it, rushing off after one of Naruhiko's waves had unexpectedly collapsed over by his flag. Still, this would be enough.

The flame on me was doused. My whole body still ached as blackened flesh cracked in open air. I watched as the impostor flailed blindly, her orbs unable to affect the flames. Even knowing it would expose my burns, I cracked a smile at the sight. That hurt! Samuel composed himself, and the flames on him guttered out, but the impostor kept screaming. Kaplen Ingolf, the final Golem squad member, rushed forward.

_Yes!_ I thought. _Grab our flag, humble that pale facsimile of Nell!_ But he didn't. Instead, Kaplen projected into the air around the pretender, starving the fire out just as Samuel had I could feel Lorne glower at him from my place on the ground, but it didn't matter. This was merely a delay in our victory. As soon as Deon returned to here rather than defending the flag with Naruhiko, we would lose. The faker would be humiliated.

But that didn't happen! Instead, I heard the referee's whistle blow, and Chimera Squad had won its first squad match under the leadership of the new Nell Ebbridge.

There were no cheers from the stands, the ones filled with first year students eager to see the legendary matchup at work. A slow roll of applause started, but the majority was mocking, and even the applause which wasn't seemed halfhearted. I'd humiliated myself for nothing. I'd shown a flaw for nothing! But my expression remained stuck, locked into that crooked smile I'd cracked. The expressions of the others weren't exactly better, though. Even the unburnt ones on both sides had frozen their faces lest they give their distaste away.

As the crowds trickled away, the sportsmanship we were exhibiting during the match- all blank expressions and silence- faded away. In its place, body replacement staff flowed in, and before I knew it, the three of us who had burned were transferred. Now, our true emotions shone through.

Lorne silently glared at Kaplen. His 'throne' set him down, falling into pieces of mere scrap metal. His team would fall hard in the rankings for such an avoidable defeat. As Lorne called Kaplen over with a cruel shout, I winced. I didn't know what Lorne would put him through, but I didn't want to know.

Lorne's minions, Naruhiko and Deon, stood by his sides. They usually didn't participate in Lorne's admonishments, but I suppose this was a step too far for Ingolf.

Ingolf himself merely winced, his already simpering expression only made worse by the cringe. Green cat fur lingered on the back of his combat (why play with your pet in your combat suit!?), and as he rushed past me to Lorne, I shifted away to avoid some falling on me.

Even as I watched that, I had drifted towards my fellow 'winners'. Chimera Squad huddled on their side of the field, circled up in the burnt dirt. The impostor lead us, vaunting, "Okay, that was good. We can definitely do better, but that was good for the first time. Leizu, you did amazing there. But next time, I want to see you stay closer to the rest of the team." That was how we won! She must have been wary of future incidents like that fire. No worries there- Leizu's Joining wouldn't help the impostor unless they somehow worked out how to share a body. "We won, but only by the skin of our teeth." No, we won by the skin of Kaplen's idiocy. "Eliya, next time, draw water from a less vulnerable portion of the shield. Clear?"

I stay silent. No reason to humor her.

Samuel jumped in to protect his new fiancé. "Eliya, just say something. We miss her too, but you can't let that decide how you act around us."

Yes, I could. I showed him that, sending over a memory of walking in on one of his many dalliances. I expected him to freeze, a deer in highlights rather than his pretentious nickname- 'The Steel Bull'. Well, he certainly uses steel, but he's hardly a bull. Bulls are bold, possessive, unafraid, and powerful- all antonyms to how I'd describe Samuel. No, a frozen deer was accurate. Samuel is a coward, a person unattached to anyone who can't help him. His fear overwhelms him much like me, but unlike me, he refuses to admit it. I mentally begged Samuel to prove me right, to stand still and make the impostor wonder what he could be seeing.

Instead, Samuel sputters like I did when Nell brought up the idea of me encouraging her to marry him. I enjoyed the sight of him choking on his own spit for a moment. I was starting to get why Lorne's internal conflict was so funny to Nell. Watching pain in people you dislike gives me a wonderful feeling. Still, it wasn't what I'd hoped for. Then, my eyes met Leizu's heavy gaze. She nodded at me, some unspoken communication like I had done with Lorne. The only difference here was, I neither knew nor cared what it meant.

It was time to leave these pricks. But first, I needed to sow the seeds of conflict. I walked away, cruelly calling over my shoulder while I shielded my eyes from the noonday sun, "This time, we scraped by. Not by skill or karma, but by luck. Next time, you won't be so lucky. Have fun with your knockoff Nell, Samuel! Make sure to check that all its parts work before you play with it!"

As I left, I heard a muffled squeak as Samuel finally froze like I'd wanted. Leizu was forced to step in, making calming gestures as she uttered, "Look, we won. We don't need to worry about our performance at the moment. I'll admit that everyone here could improve, including myself, but that need not come today. Our ranking is secure for another day. Go enjoy that fact."

Even despite the speech, I could feel the tension which had formed. Fake-Nell wasn't happy with Samuel. _Trouble in Paradise? Oh, for shame._ I headed back, not to the squad dorm, but to my room on the Brin estate. The pressure had been exerted, and while it had done its job, now I needed to break.

I screamed at the gilded walls, my breath coming in short bursts. Salty tears trickled down my beautiful cheeks, my perfectly-manufactured heart beating irregularly. I had everything, but my closest friend had nothing. My hands were clenched tight now, razor-sharp nails digging into artificially durable skin. The scars from my previous body were gone, the tiny half-moon crests abandoning me just like Nell. Now another was coming in to take her place.

But I wouldn't let her! My eyesight blurred by tears, but my mind's eye could see the burns, feel the joy at punishing her for what she did. I wouldn't relent. I would push her- the thoughts led me to what had preceded them, to that horrible flame of Deon's. My skin felt flushed, my chest paining me all the more. I rocked back onto my rear, unfolding from the fetal position even as my stomach churned. I gave a sickly smile, trying to call back that flash of joy, but nothing.

Nobody would help me or Nell. I'd asked Dad for help in a moment of despair, but he hadn't responded, and I worried he never would. My squad mates had abandoned me, Nell's mother had planned this, where could I get help!? Even my throwing the match, that petty, stupid vengeance, had failed.

But... Lorne hadn't betrayed me. He was reliable in his planning. So long as he won, he would go along with any plan. I... I could work with that. I was no Nell in the planning department, but I could work with that.

The night was cold as I made a beeline for Golem Squad's dorms, but the stars glimmered in the distance like the million suns they were. The dorm was locked, its lights off, but I used the small bit of metal projection I had learned first year, and it jangled open. The locks were just for show- there was no such thing as privacy in Paragon unless you were smart enough to make yourself some. Lorne hadn't cared to.

As I swung the door open, I froze, as a frightening tableau had entered my field of view. Kaplen Ingolf stood on his mattress, a chef's knife set against the fleshy opening that led straight to his brainstem. As it wobbled there, Ingolf projecting into it with all he had, there was a dull ringing in my ears. Focusing on it, I found Ingolf was talking, babbling really, all presumably to me. "You know, I considered just jumping off. Doing the long plummet from Paragon to the ground, you know the idea. There aren't any body replacement services down there. It would be certain death." As he babbled, the knife's wobbling slowly steadied. He was getting ready to do it. "But I guess I'm too much of a coward to even kill myself correctly. I guess Lorne was right. I am useless. I- I- I-"

As he gasped for breath, hyperventilating at the thought, I eyed the knife. But it was still steady, still right there at his brainstem. Instead I finally managed to find my voice. "Ingo- Kaplen, you're not useless. You care, even about people like that shrew taking Nell's place. And you care even when people hate you for it." I don't know what I'm saying- I'm one of the ones who hate him for it. But the words spill out, like when I break, except this time I'm not the one breaking.

"No, no you're wrong. I'm useless in almost everything. But my own body? I know that. I know this will kill me instantly if I do it right, so don't stop me. You may think 'Oh, he did it so obviously, out in the open, he wants someone to stop him!', but I don't! Just let me get some peace!"

For a second, just one, the knife wobbled away from Kaplen's skin, presumably right before it would drive itself in. I couldn't fight for control of the knife, not in this timeframe. But while he babbled, I'd come up with a stopgap. My Pith straining, blue lightning spiraling from every pore, I froze the air around the knife, encasing it in ice. A moment later, I projected into the ice. The knife flew to my hand, and I snatched it up.

For some reason, I didn't just walk out of there with the knife. Instead, I strode up to Kaplen, pressing my finger into his chest as I gave my demands. "Now, here's how this goes. You are going to explain why this happened in detail. You are going to show me where you got this, so I can keep them from you. And we are going to deal with this."

I pulled him out the door, tugging on his arm as he stood there frozen. "Let's go."

We strolled down the stony paths of Paragon. How funny, I thought. Two mental wrecks beside each other- one only a bit less obvious. The perfect couple!

Kaplen seemed uncomfortable with the silence. He rocked his weight from side to side. He lasted onoy a few minutes before he broke. "I lied, you know. I wanted someone to save me. I just wanted to die more."

I didn't know how to respond to that. Instead, I prompted him for more. "Why?"

Kaplen didn't babble like before. Instead, his words came out haltingly. Like a toddler testing the waters. "Every time I fail, every time we lose, Lorne blames me. He tells me to kill myself, to leave Paragon, to leave his squad. And usually, I can take it. I can think 'How can I compete with that!' after I've seen Lorne, and the old Nell, and you, and Naruhiko on such powerful levels. I haven't even discovered my Vocation, I'll think. Maybe once I discover that, I'll be just as good as them. It's not true but it's enough."

Here, I still had nothing. He paused, firms his feet as we stop in the walk and the halting delivery gives way to smoother speech. "But there, everything went right. I had the perfect chance. And I blew it, to help somone who hasn't even thanked me."

I remained silent, unsure of what to share. "You know, she's on patrol tonight. She may just not have gotten around to it." Even as I said it, I could feel how flimsy the lie was.

Kaplen apparently saw the same, giving me a gimlet eye. "Yeah, right. No, she won't thank me, and soon I'll be out of everyone's hair. Lorne was planning to invite me to a party today, where I could network and connect enough for next year's tuition. That didn't happen, unfortuantely. You know, 'go kill yourself' and all."

That, I could respond to. "Lorne's pathetic. He's strong, but he needs to back it up by having weaklings to look down on. As long as you stay with him, he'll keep you weak and controllable."

Kaplen smiled at that. "Thanks, Eliya."

Then, I saw what he was doing here. "Now, let's see where you got those knives."

Kaplen's face pulled into a guilty plea. "Not the best idea, Eliya."

"Well, where was it from?" I'm not letting this go.

Kaplen sighed, evidently exasperated with my persistence. "It's a chef's knife, Eliya. It's from the kitchen. And I don't care what you say- you can't get rid of every knife in Paragon. Just let it rest."

I rolled my eyes, somehow relaxed in a way I hadn't been since the night before Nell's Oust. "Fine. But I'm not just letting this go. I'll check in on you tomorrow."

As I made my way towards the Brin home, his meek tones paused me. "Can I just ask one question?"

I avoided the obvious joke. We'd fallen back into seriousness.

"Why do you care?"

It stumped me for a second, before I decided to simply tell him the truth. "I don't know yet. But I do care, for some inane reason. Just remember that- someone cares. It helps."

I fled the scene, sure I had left a confused yet better-off person behind. It was true, though. It did help. But it also hurt so very badly when they left. Just look at what I was doing for the person who cared about me.


End file.
